


white noiz

by honeybakedtea



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Assassination Attempt(s), M/M, Poisoning, WHOOPSIE DAISIE, my fraldarddyd hit again, the other lions are minor but they're there!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 15:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19704553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybakedtea/pseuds/honeybakedtea
Summary: “Felix? What’s wrong?”Dimitri’s voice, uncharacteristically high, cut through the haze. Felix's eyes swivelled to train on him of their own accord; first on the prince himself, eyes wide. Then, the goblet he was clutching with knuckles pure white. Then, on the food - to Mercedes and Annette, half out of their chairs - then back on his friend - and in some spectacular moment of clarity, Felix finally understood.(( alternatively; the one where swapping food isn't as harmless as it first looks. ))





	white noiz

**Author's Note:**

> title from the silent hill 2 ost of the same name <3
> 
> written pre-release, so characterisation may be a lil off. (How mean is Felix? sadly I do not know on Saturday the 6th of July, 2019. :( ) but I hope you enjoy anyway!
> 
> EDIT: if you're reading this post release, I am SO SO SORRY HHHHH... THE CHARACTERISATION IS SO O F F.... just pretend this is an au :')

The first thing Felix saw when he finally managed to trudge his way into the Dining Hall was Dimitri’s plate, heaped high with tantalising chicken legs and roast potatoes and Seiros knew what else. To be honest, once he saw the chicken, Felix’s mind helpfully stopped working anyway, so he wouldn’t be able to identify whatever else was on the plate even if he squinted.

Naturally, he couldn’t let such an opportunity pass by. 

"Felix," Dimitri sighed, exasperated, as Felix swapped the prince’s generous plate of food with his own measly portion. Dedue made a noise of displeasure, as he usually did when Felix did anything, really, but Felix ignored him, instead deciding to nudge the sad, previously-his plate of gruel towards his friend.

"Listen, I've been training all day," he huffed as he sat, barely managing to conceal a smug grin at Dimitri’s woeful expression, "and your food looks too good to pass up. I am _not_ dealing with leftovers right now."

Dimitri wrinkled his nose, before puffing out his cheeks in a sad imitation of a pufferfish. Felix was suddenly reminded of their childhood days, when he'd used to run away from the furious little prince who chased after him, all the while making those same stupid pufferfish cheeks.

In retrospect, maybe stealing the crown prince's prized teddy bear wasn't the best idea, but a surge of fondness welled up inside him at the recollection anyway. Those days had been simple and carefree: just him and Sylvain being little shits, with Dimitri perpetually yelling after them and Ingrid forcing them into submission with her scoldings.

Now, though, everything was a little different. Dimitri’s expression was constantly clouded; like a storm brewing in the distance, or like the thrum of magic about to be cast. Something was _wrong_ with him, something rumbling under the surface that Felix couldn’t quite pinpoint, and it frustrated him to no end. 

Felix wasn't the only one who had noticed, either. Dedue and Ingrid weren't being as subtle as they thought they were, what with all their carefully poised questions and heightened attentiveness. Still, though...

He glanced at Dimitri, appearing nonchalant. Sylvain was trying to snake a hand onto his plate, and Felix absently swatted it away as he scrutinised his oldest friend's face.

Dimitri still looked as pleasant as ever, carefully slicing his vegetables into small portions with all the refined airs of the prince he was. He smiled at Sylvain's jokes, sighed affectionately at Ashe's demolition of his food, and engaged animatedly in conversation with a nodding Ingrid. To the unassuming, he seemed fine. Cheerful, even.

Felix knew better. The boar, idiot that he was, was worrying him with the tight expression he wore when he thought no one was looking. Not to mention his lack of appetite, lately, or his going to sleep at ungodly hours of the night. He'd even let Felix win their last spar without a proper fight; something that he never would have done before all this - whatever _this_ was.

Felix had no idea how to approach him about the subject, though. A duel, maybe? To vent? 

…or not, considering what had happened the last time they’d resolved an argument with a duel. He didn’t think he could endure another round of Manuela’s yelling. Opera singer, all right.

Besides, actions spoke louder than words. If stealing his food was the only way to make Dimitri smile - a genuine, affectionate smile - then he’d do it without hesitation.

...Eugh. That was disgustingly sappy. Felix was decisively glad that no one could read his mind. He’d never hear the end of it from Sylvain.

As if on cue, Sylvain jerked Felix out of his reverie by finally managing to snatch a drumstick with a triumphant cry. Grateful for the distraction, Felix swiped at the offending hand and stopped the thief in his tracks. 

“Hands off,” he ordered.

“It’s not even your food!” Sylvain wailed. Felix shrugged - _winners, keepers_ \- and dug in.

“I was looking forward to that,” Dimitri said, matter-of-factly, before kicking Felix under the table, right where it hurt. Felix barely suppressed the urge to give the prince the finger - Mercedes would kill him before he could even _try_ it in front of the kids - and instead settled on a glare.

“I’ve been stealing your food for years," he quipped, between spoonfuls of rice. "Why stop now?”

Dimitri gave him The Look of Princely Displeasure (which never worked, so Felix had no idea why he even bothered), before sighing into a tiny smile. 

Quietly, Felix counted that as a win.

  


He didn't speak much as he ate; partly because his nose still stung from where a fist had swung into it (thanks, Caspar) and partly because… well. He'd always preferred listening to his housemates chatter about the mundane, chipping in with a sarcastic remark or two before going back to his own thing. Prolonged conversation never really was his forte.

Today, Annette was being quizzed by Mercedes as she prepared for a certification exam. Why she needed to go over the material over the dinner table, Felix had no idea - but hey, whatever made her happy, he supposed.

“You’re doing well, dear,” Mercedes praised, smiling gently. She flicked to the next page of the textbook, eyes scanning down the lines. “Now, tell me about the properties of dwale. The poison, not the anaesthetic.”

Annette paused in her scribbling, stuffing a bread roll in her mouth instead. Felix rolled his eyes when her cheeks bulged like an overweight hamster.

"Dwale! I know this one!” she chirped, pondering, before she dropped her head as quickly as she started. "Oh no, wait... I don’t know this one..”

Dimitri put down his fork. “Think about our trip last week," he prompted. "Do you remember the patches we came across?”

At Dimitri’s encouragement, Annette slowly recovered herself, and gave the correct answer with a whoop of delight. Felix watched as Dimitri and Mercedes both praised her, when his breath suddenly caught in his throat, and he spluttered into a cough.

Sylvain thumped him on the back, cheery as always, as he erupted into a series of pathetic wheezes. Felix glowered at him when he'd finished, and the redhead laughed at him even more. 

Bastard. _Screw_ chicken bones that were easy to choke on.

Felix massaged his throat a while, trying his best not to look too debilitated. The back of his throat was still tickling, as if petals of a flower were brushing against it, and Felix found himself consciously suppressing the urge to grab a pitcher of water and down it one go. Later, he’d admit to himself that it was mostly the embarrassment that stopped him. His cheeks felt like one of Annette’s spells gone wrong.

Even worse, Sylvain was still laughing, like some sort of deranged clown. If he kept going, Felix would probably strangle him at the table there and then. It took a lot of willpower for him to refrain from doing just that and instead turn back to Dimitri -

-who, unsurprisingly, had the frown of a century etched on his face. Felix inadvertently scowled. 

He _knew_ what was going on. Dimitri thought that no one was paying attention to him, so entertained the bright idea of pondering about his duties again. By the _gods_ but his best friend was _stupid_ \- he kept denying that anything was wrong, even when it was _so obvious_ that something _was_ . Why did the boar have to bottle up _everything?_ Would it _kill_ him to say something for once?

…Not that he'd be any different. They were both a pair of emotionally constipated idiots, apparently (Ingrid’s words, not his) because whenever Felix thought about his own feelings, he retreated into the training yard and sparred until the dummies were sad, messy bundles of hay on the floor.

Well, at least he was acknowledging that he was emotionally stunted. Privately, anyway.

Felix looked at Dimitri again, looking so solemn and so unlike his pre-academy self. His chest ached, like a snake wrapping tendrils around his ribs, strong and silent and sinister …

-and _that_ right there sounded so horrendously sappy and disgusting that Felix physically gagged, until the ache soared in intensity, alarming and insistent, and he started to cough again.

This time, though, the coughs were throaty and hellish to choke out - the kind that made you physically wince when you heard them. He felt like an idiot for feeling so _weak_ after swallowing a measly bone, but it burned. It _hurt._

 _Gods_ , he thought, when the hacking finally subsided and the eyes of his entire house were boring into him. _What's wrong with me?_

“Deep breaths. Here, have some water,” Ingrid murmured, passing him a goblet. Felix thanked her, gulping down the water faster than he'd ever done in his life. When he finished, though, the burning hadn't disappeared. Judging by the way his breaths were coming out in laborious rasps, it had flared up into something even more inconvenient.

Ugh. Trust _him_ of all people to get sick right in the middle of dinner, somehow.

“I think my food is exacting its revenge upon you,” Dimitri muttered teasingly.

“Ah, shut up, you boar.” Felix coughed again, not even bothering to return a witty retaliation. This was _so fucking embarrassing_. His chest was literally doing cartwheels when he looked at Dimitri. What was he, the star of one of Annette's romance novels?

He swallowed, and frowned. He really was beginning to feel like shit, come to think of it. There wasn’t really much he could do, though, save from getting some cough syrup afterwards, so he shovelled a potato into his mouth instead.

Felix cleared his entire plate in between bouts of throaty wheezing. That chicken really _was_ good, and Felix was smug when he looked up to see Dimitri gazing mournfully into his bowl of… whatever it was that he had given him.

However, as his coughs transcended the realm of humour into genuinely painful sounds, the stares of his housemates gradually start to linger. He tried silencing them with a pointed glare, but his brain felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton. Experimentally, he shook his head, and the world blurred so hard he felt like someone was using his skull for discus practice.

_Seiros… I’m not doing that one again…_

His vision was still blurry. He tried to reorient himself with one hand, but, well. That was difficult when said hand had no idea what it was supposed to be doing.

_Ack… focus on something..._

Ashe. Ashe was right in front of him, if he was remembering right. Sure enough, when Felix opened his eyes, the younger boy was inhaling his soup at record speed, barely stopping to breathe. Felix vaguely wondered why on earth he never slowed down to chew properly - not that he cared, but - maybe it was something to do with... ?

He didn't realise he was we staring until Ashe was staring back, uncertain. 

“What? Is there something on my face?” The archer rubbed his nose, before suddenly leaning forward and waving a hand in front of Felix's nose. “Hang on, you don’t look so good, Felix…”

 _No, actually I always feel like my head's going to explode,_ his mind supplied, scathing.

“I’m fine,” Felix muttered dismissively, ignoring Dedue's sound of concern. His head really felt like it was swimming, now, fish and all, completely contrasting his throat, which was on fire and as dry as scorched grass. His toes were completely different, too - numb like someone had encased them in Faerghus snow. 

What the hell was _wrong_ with him?

Forget finding the answer. His food was finished, so there was no point in lingering. He had to get out, fast, before his head really did give out on him, and he made a fool of himself in front of everyone.

With an embarrassing amount of effort, Felix heaved himself up, scraping his chair back and wobbling in one spot. His hand was trembling, weak and frail like a leaf. Distantly, he realised that he couldn't feel his fingers.

“Felix? Are you alright?” Mercedes' sweet voice sounded warped, like he was hearing it underwater.

He - had to _leave -_

“I’m leaving,” he tried to say, but the words slurred into a myriad of sounds, low and slow and - he couldn't remember. Felix leaned a hand on the chair, and tried to continue. “Just realised - I left something in my room - ”

He didn't get far before the coughs returned, cracking through his throat and doubling him over in agony. Felix waited for them to subside before he started talking again, mouth quivering and jerking with every inhale of breath. He probably looked horrible - so _weak_ \- if only these Goddess-damned coughs would _just shut up -_

They weren't stopping.

He couldn't _breathe._

 _Something's wrong,_ he realised, clawing at his throat. His chest constricted, like a python was crushing it - the numbing in his extremities was frosting over to ice and it was _spreading_ \- his head throbbed - he couldn't _breathe_ -

“Felix? What’s wrong?”

Dimitri’s voice, uncharacteristically high, cut through the haze. Felix's eyes swivelled to train on him of their own accord; first on the prince himself, eyes wide. Then, the goblet he was clutching with knuckles pure white. Then, on the food - to Mercedes and Annette, half out of their chairs - then back on his friend - and in some spectacular moment of clarity, Felix finally understood.

“Your goblet,” he gasped. “Don't - drink -”

With the last of his strength, Felix lurched forward, and slapped the goblet out of Dimitri’s hands. It splashed on the floor with a resounding crash. The silence that followed was stifling.

He watched, heaving, as the liquid pooled underneath the table, dark and sinister. He watched as his housemates rose from their chairs, unmasked worry painted across all their faces, and he watched as Dimitri stared at him with his mouth open, right as his legs crumbled and he staggered forward.

_“Felix!”_

The scream rang through his ears like a bell toll, agonising and heartrending and foretelling something sinister, but there was no time for that, because - Dimitri didnt - he didn't drink any of it - _did he -_

The lights were out before he hit the floor.

  
  


When he jerked back to consciousness, he was choking, like a twitching puppet on strings.

Felix gagged and retched as his body wreaked havoc on itself. He couldn’t control anything. His limbs were molten lead, oozing into the floor, and his eyes rolled back of their own accord, blurry and unfocused as a mirror soaked in rain. His body convulsed, and kept convulsing, the sound of it like someone slapping the side of beef with a wooden paddle. Distantly, he realised that his head was being cradled on someone’s lap.

“Felix, please! Stay with me!”

A voice… it was familiar. Felix had no time to think on it, though, because a wave of nausea rolled over him, and then hands were turning him onto his side.

Someone was crouching in front of him. Blue… golden… an expression of pure anguish...

“We’re getting help - please, hold on!”

Felix tried, he really did, to reassure the boar that he wasn’t going to die. When he opened his mouth, though, to do the reassuring, he spewed out a shower of crimson instead.

Dimitri’s face when the droplets of blood landed on his tunic would have been priceless at any other time. Now, Felix just wanted to wipe that agonised cry from his memory as soon as it sounded.

Not that he could. A blanket of drowsiness enveloped him soon after his coughing fit faded, and Felix couldn’t stop himself as collapsed on the floor proper.

_Damnit… is he…?_

As he slipped away, the last thing Felix felt was warm hands grabbing at his face - tender yet desperate, like a drowning man holding onto sinking straws - and a flash of familiar, comforting blue.

“No! No, you can’t-”

The world dimmed into white noise.

  


When he swam back to consciousness for the second time, his teacher was there. 

It was painstakingly gradual, the way he returned to awareness. Touch came first: the press of his back into a weighty mattress, the tickle of his hair splayed out on his pillow, the bundle of blanket bundled around his feet. Then it was sound and smell, which was only a consistent tapping sound of something hitting the floor. At last, Felix opened his eyes groggily, only to awaken to the sight of his teacher staring at him expectantly from a chair next to his bedside, tapping his feet.

Bedside. And this wasn’t his bed.

Memories came flooding back like a deluge, and Felix bolted upright.

“Where’s Dimitri - ” he rasped, before the burning in his throat flared up again and the familiar nausea came crashing over in waves. He coughed and clutched his stomach, as his teacher hurried over and pushed him back down into the bed.

“Easy, easy,” Byleth murmured. “You’ve had a rough couple of days. Rest assured that Dimitri is perfectly fine - you are the sick one right now. You must rest.”

Felix waited for the burning to subside, before completely ignoring his teacher’s orders. “The poison,” he pressed, wincing, “What was it?”

Byleth started. “You knew?” he questioned, before correcting himself almost immediately with a shake of his head. “No, of course you did. You emptied Dimitri’s goblet before he could drink it himself… That was some quick thinking, by the way. Well done.”

Byleth gave Felix one of his rare, small smiles - hardly ever seen and always a cause of commotion when it was - before he returned to scrutinising him intently. Felix repressed the urge to tense, instead choosing to stare at a spot on the wall.

“...The substance is still being identified,” Byleth said finally. “I’m told that the tests they run are extensive, but they should be able to find the culprit soon.”

Another pregnant pause followed. The elephant in the room would probably be trumpeting, if it were a real thing.

Felix cleared his throat as best as he could, and decided to get on with it. It didn’t seem like Byleth was going to do anything, anyway, judging by the way he leaned back in his chair.

“Well,” Felix coughed. “How is he?”

Byleth huffed, and sent him his trademark glare. “The prince is absolutely fine. As I said before, you are the one in immediate concern.” He crossed his legs before continuing. “There is an ongoing investigation taking place, and Dimitri is to stay in his room, guarded at all times - ”

The door slammed open before he could finish. Felix would have jumped if his bones didn’t feel like gold bullions. Instead, he looked up just in time to see none other than Dimitri bursting in, all messy hair and rumpled clothes. 

“Felix!” the prince yelled, before making a beeline for the bedside.

“... Correction: he was _supposed_ to stay in his room,” Byleth finished dryly, as Dimitri hovered over the bed. Their teacher sighed, before pressing a finger to his temple. “Dimitri, _what_ are you doing here?”

“I was - I was coming up for visiting hours, and I heard talking, so -” Dimitri paused, and took a deep breath. “How is he?”

“I’m right here,” Felix complained, but his annoyance went unnoticed. Dimitri ignored him, and fiddled with his sleeves instead. It was his tell of nervousness; he’d been doing that since they were kids.

“Stable, for now,” Byleth answered, “but he needs to restore his strength. He only just woke up.”

An awkward silence followed, in which Dimitri’s gaze bored holes into the blankets. The prince didn’t seem to want to look at Felix properly, which sparked a flare of annoyance, but he resisted the urge to snap at him. Byleth studied the two of them, confused, until a flicker of understanding passed over his features.

“I’ll leave you two to catch up,” the professor offered, resting a hand on Felix’s shoulder for a brief second before departing with a wave. “Don’t exert yourself,” he added as a stern warning, just as the door shut with a decisive click.

Another awkward silence filled the room, since Dimitri still refused to look at him. Felix huffed inwardly. Seemed like he had to do everything by himself, as usual.

He waggled his fingers. “Hey, swine,” he greeted, words slurring a little at the end. Dimitri didn’t react at the pet name like he usually did, opting instead to drop into Byleth’s empty chair without a word. Felix frowned.

“How do you feel?” Dimitri asked, tentative. His eyes were red-rimmed, and a little puffy. _Shit._

He waved a hand in Dimitri’s general direction. “I’ve been better. What about you? Did they catch the bastard yet?”

“Not yet,” Dimitri sighed, picking at his clothes. “They’re trying, but no.” 

That was the end of that, apparently, since the companionable silence that followed quickly flickered away into nothing. Felix hated it. Things had _never_ been awkward between him and the boar, save for that one incident when they were seven, and this one seemed so unnatural. So unlike them. 

Time to fix it, he supposed.

“So what’s with the long face?” he prodded, wincing as the motion stretched his throat taut. “Haven’t seen you like that since you fell out of that tree back when - what, eight years ago, now? I still haven’t forgotten about that, by the way.”

Dimitri didn’t answer for a good while, and for an indignant moment Felix thought he had stopped listening. However, when Felix took a good look at him, it was with a startling realisation that he noticed his friend was gaping at him. If this were better circumstances, he’d liken the face to a fish, but from his tight expression and clenched fists, Felix could tell that Dimitri was seething. 

Uh oh.

“You - what’s with the _long face?_ You nearly _died!”_

Ah, yeah. That.

Something twinged and snagged at his heart, before he cleared his throat. “Takes more than a little food to kill me. I'm not that weak," he huffed. "You look like shit, though.”

Gods, but he could not express his feelings for anything. What was supposed to sound comforting came out as a barbed insult, as it often did, and Felix, for once in his life, wanted to smack himself upside the head.

It seemed like Dimitri had the same idea, because he shot up out of the chair and sent it toppling with a rage Felix hadn’t seen directed at him in a long, long time.

“You - I can’t believe this,” Dimitri fumed, features twisted in a snarl. “Don’t you have _any_ regard for your own life? _I’m_ not the one in the infirmary! You nearly _died!”_ Felix watched, uncharacteristically silent, as Dimitri paced furiously for a couple of steps before rounding on him like a whirlwind. “Do you have _any_ idea what I thought when you -”

He choked on the last syllable, voice breaking down, before turning away and bringing a hand to his eyes. 

_Shit._

“Did you know?” Dimitri asked, turning back to him, tired and weary and lost and everything Felix had never _wanted_ him to be.

“Know what?”

“That my food was laced.”

“What? No, of course not. What do you take me for?” Felix frowned, propping himself up on one elbow. “If I knew it was poisoned, I wouldn’t have let any of us eat it. I’m not that reckless, you idiot. You know that.”

Dimitri still had that shattered expression on his face. Felix wanted to punch a wall.

“Hey, you think I'm dying for you at the dinner table?" he tried joking, slightly desperate. "I'll save it for the field."

If anything, that made it even worse. Dimitri closed his eyes with a shudder, and slumped into the chair. When he bent forward to rest his head in his hands, Felix noticed with a start that they were shaking.

Fucking - _curse_ him and his emotional stupidity -

“You know what? Forget that,” Felix said quickly. His words had no effect, and when he tried to reach out, Dimitri shied away from his hand. Shit, shit, _shit._ “Just - Look. I'm okay. I'm fine, see? I'm not sorry that it happened -"

Dimitri snapped up. His lips were pressed in a thin line, but before he could open his mouth, Felix stopped him.

“Let me finish. Yeah, I’m pissed that I wasted a couple of days and I feel like someone took a knife to my gut, but I’d rather it be me than you any day.” 

Dimitri didn't look placated at all; instead, he looked more determined to cut in, but Felix ploughed on. “Besides, imagine all the paperwork if the prince of Faerghus just dropped dead at the Officers Academy. You think I want to deal with that?”

Whew. That was a nice save, if he did say so himself. The first bit had already been embarrassing for him to push out - even though it was exactly how he felt, anyway - and he’d always been good at covering the mushy stuff with snark. It worked for him, usually, and today was no different.

Dimitri tried to speak, looking comically indignant, but Felix stopped him again with a wave. He knew exactly the type of argument he’d get if he didn’t, and there was no way for them to spar it out right now.

"Huh, would you look at that? I’m getting tired. I don't think I can keep up a conversation anymore." A complete lie, and they both knew it, but it worked to shut Dimitri up. The prince deflated, and finally sank back into his chair. Felix prodded him, affection welling up in his chest when Dimitri pouted. "Go to sleep, boar. You look like you’re going to drop.”

Dimitri glared at him, before switching to a more serious expression. Serious and tired, Felix noted with a falling heart, right before he short-circuited as Dimitri took his hand in both of his own.

He - _what -_

“Just… don’t do that again, please,” Dimitri murmured, completely oblivious to Felix's freak-out. “I mean it, Felix. I couldn’t - _can’t_ \- bear to lose you.” 

Felix nodded numbly, feeling his face burn. He couldn't really do anything else but watch as Dimitri rubbed his thumb over the back of his hand, before withdrawing completely. The skin tingled from where they had made contact, not unlike the same thrum of power he felt when his Crest activated in battle.

It felt… pretty good.

(Bloody - _hell_ -) 

“I’m staying until you fall asleep," Dimitri declared, standing up and straightening his blankets. “Knowing you, the minute I leave this room you’ll try and find someone to spar with."

“Wow,” Felix rolled his eyes, recovering quickly. “I have other hobbies, you know.” 

"Oh, really?"

"Dimitri, do me a favour, and shut up."

Dimitri smiled at him cheekily - _finally,_ a genuine smile - before proceeding to completely ignore him and talk his ear off instead.

  


They chatted in hushed voices, so as not to strain Felix's aching throat, until he really did begin to feel drowsy. At one point, he was too tired to even whack Dimitri in the shoulder properly, instead letting his hand flop onto the pillow beside him. 

Of course, Dimitri noticed. Felix didn't expect any less, and so he was unsurprised when his friend ordered him to sleep, and began adjusting the blankets like a fretting nursemaid.

"Make sure you get plenty of rest. Drink lots of fluids, and don't strain yourself-"

"Geez, _fine,_ mother. You don't need to baby me," Felix grumbled, flapping a hand towards the exit. "Go away. Take your own advice for once. You're getting grey hairs."

Dimitri's low chuckle was the last thing he heard before he fell into a deep slumber, along with the press of lips, cool and soft and utterly comforting, on his forehead.

He slept well that night.

**Author's Note:**

> dimitri: [crying]  
> felix: [pats his back awkwardly] there there?  
> dimitri:  
> dimitri: [cries harder]
> 
> \------------  
> byleth: [looks at dimitri]  
> byleth: [looks at felix]  
> byleth:  
> byleth: nope.  
> byleth: not today.  
> byleth: i'm outta here.
> 
> \-------------  
> dimitri: [gives felix a lil smooch on the forehead]  
> dimitri: [leaves the room]  
> felix:  
> felix: [dies]
> 
> \-------------
> 
> anyway, I hope you all enjoyed! comments and kudos are much appreciated <3


End file.
